"It shall be as you say, master!" answered the dwarf, as he went out. But he was very much disturbed in mind, for he knew that the day of his disgrace and misfortune was at hand. He had not the slightest idea how to make the pastry. He therefore went to his chamber and wept over his hard fate. Just then the goose, Mimi, who had the run of his chamber, came up to him and inquired the cause of his sorrow. "Cease to weep," said she, on learning of the incident of the pastry. "This _entrée_ was a favorite dish of my father's, and I know about how it is made. You take this and that, so and so much, and if there should happen to be any little thing left out, why, the gentlemen will never notice it." The dwarf, on hearing Mimi's recipe, jumped for joy, blessed the day on which he had bought the goose, and ran off to make the queen of the pastries. He first made a small one by way of experiment, and lo, it tasted finely, and the master of the kitchen, to whom he gave a morsel, heartily praised his skill. On the following day, he baked the pastry in a larger form, and after decorating it with a wreath of flowers, sent it, hot from the oven, to the duke's table. He then donned his best suit of clothes, and followed after it. As he entered the dining-room, the head carver was in the act of cutting the pastry and serving it up to the duke and his guest, with a silver pie-knife. The duke took a large mouthful of the pastry, cast his eyes up at the ceiling, and said as soon as he had swallowed it: "Ah! ah! ah! They are right in calling this the queen of the pastries; but my dwarf is also king of all cooks--isn't that so, dear friend?" The prince helped himself to a small piece, tasted and examined it attentively, and then, with a scornful smile, pushed the plate away from him, exclaiming: "The thing is very cleverly made, but still it isn't the genuine Souzeraine. I thought it would turn out that way." The duke scowled, and reddening with mortification, cried: "Dog of a dwarf! How dare you bring this disgrace on your master? Shall I have your big head taken off as a penalty for your bad cookery?" "Alas, master, I prepared the dish in accordance with all the rules of art; there certainly can not any thing be wanting!" cried the dwarf trembling. "You lie, you knave!" exclaimed the duke, giving him a kick, "or my guest would not say that some ingredient was wanting. I will have you cut up in small pieces and made into a pastry yourself!" "Have pity!" cried the dwarf, falling on his knees before the guest, and clasping his feet. "Tell me what is wanting in this dish that it does not suit your palate? Do not let me die on account of a handful of meat and meal."